


Go Play Robin Hood with Someone Else’s Heart

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Clint Loves Commercial Holidays, Consumption of junk food, Divorced Clint Barton, Fluff, M/M, Slightly Grumpy Bucky, Tacky Holiday Decorations, Target Holiday Sales, Winterhawk Valentine's Day 2021 Blind Date Exchange, divorced bucky barnes, go read her stuff, my gift for squadrickchestopher because she is AWESOME, neighbors to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: “How can you not love this stuff? C’mon, it’s Baby Yoda with a little Cupid bow and arrow!”“Put that down and quit squawking about it. Someone might hear you and think I’m with you.”“I’m buying it,” Clint told Bucky as he chucked the tacky centerpiece into the cart. “Keep standing there with a stick up your ass.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83
Collections: 2021 Winterhawk Valentine's Day Exchange





	Go Play Robin Hood with Someone Else’s Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squadrickchestopher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/gifts).



> This is my winterhawk exchange Valentine’s Day gift for Squaddy, because she is AWESOME. I saw the prompt “One of them hates Valentine’s Day, but the other is super into it, and keeps sucking the first into various Valentine’s Day themed shenanigans.” How can I resist that?

Bucky packed the last of his Christmas decorations into a medium-sized box and shoved it into the back of his hall closet. The living room looked bland and undecorated again after a little less than a month of turning on his Christmas tree lights after dinner just to enjoy watching them change color while he played his Netflix queue. Originally, Bucky never planned to buy a Christmas tree, not when he didn’t even have anyone to share it with, but Rhodey told him one night over dinner in the tiny break room, “Fuck it. Put up a tree for yourself. Get some naughty ornaments. Just any little Charlie Brown, tabletop tree with some lights and some tinsel. Even when I was still single, I still had a Christmas tree, man. You do you.” Bucky took the suggestion with a grain of salt, at first, but somehow, walking through Target’s decoration section on his way to buy a gift for his niece made him feel wistful at the sight of the tiny, prelit Christmas trees. His apartment was a tiny studio with no counter space and a bathroom that was so small that the shower door and the bathroom door clicked together if you left them open at the same time, but damn it, suddenly, Bucky wanted a tree. A couple of trips back to the discount and dollar stores found Bucky with a Batman stocking hanging over his TV, some holiday window clings on his patio door, and a fiber optic tree that slowly shifted colors at him until he invariably fell asleep on the couch. 

He’d survived his first real Christmas alone, and he was still standing. Sometimes, he still missed the house, with its full-sized bathroom and tub, having a laundry machine in the corridor so he didn’t have to fight with his neighbors to wash two loads at once, and the porch swing outside his front door that used to be the perfect place to watch the sunset. Christmas just hit differently when you didn’t have kids to help you bake cookies or a spouse to sneak back into the bedroom with to finish wrapping last-minute presents to set out under the tree. Katiana was his stepdaughter, and Nat wasn’t trying to get blood from a stone in the split, but that didn’t make spending the holidays alone anymore appealing, did it?

Yeah, the holidays sort of sucked, now.

Halloween meant he didn’t have to take Katiana trick-or-treating this year, and he didn’t have much of an excuse to walk down those neighborhoods himself to see the suburbanites try to outdo each other with projector lights over their garage doors and animatronic bats that shrieked as soon as you reached the door. Bucky simply brought a couple of bags of Hershey’s miniatures to the break room the day after, because they were on sale.

Thanksgiving was “Friendsgiving” at Steve and Sam’s house. All Bucky had been on the hook for was a dish of candied yams and the alcohol of his choice. He’d spent the night on their reclining sectional sofa with the cupholders, watching football and letting their daughter Serena crawl up onto his lap and read him an Eric Carle book, which mostly consisted of showing him the pictures. Painful? Just a smidgen. But, it still beat staying home and placing an Uber Eats order for a bucket of chicken.

Bucky dreaded Christmas from Black Friday forward, from the first time that the Starbucks down the street blasted Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” while he waited for his praline latte all the way up to his work’s holiday potluck. (No one ever eats fruitcake, Tony. What’s wrong with you?) His Facebook feed was loaded with “New Year, New Me!” posts and photos of his friends and their kids wearing matching pajamas in front of enormous trees. Bucky was ready to detox from the holidays and get back to some semblance of “normal.”

… except. Valentine’s Day.

_fuuuuuucccck_

The leftover Christmas crap was already marked for clearance at Target and garish Valentine’s Day crap shared space right next to it, a fluffy, glittery affront to his senses. Bucky felt betrayed; the stores weren’t gonna give him a break.

He didn’t miss Nat or even miss being married. He just missed the _idea_ of being “established” with someone. Being attached. Being a “significant other” made him feel, well. _Significant._

Bucky overheard Sharon, Wanda and Pepper talking about Valentine’s Day in the conference room before the update meeting and was about ready to rip his ears off.

“Tony’s taking us to the steakhouse we went to on our anniversary. He proposed there. I hope they still have the same chef working there that made the filet mignon; it was _phenomenal_.”

“Oh, I love that place. The garlic mashed potatoes are amazing.”

“I always get the wedge salad appetizer.”

Bucky couldn’t understand why a wedge salad needed to cost fifteen dollars on any day of the year, but he knew it would likely cost twenty on Valentine’s Day. Trying to park downtown even to get takeout on Valentine’s Day was impossible.

The women mercifully moved on to New Year’s gym memberships before the rest of his team filed into the conference room for the meeting. He filled his commuter cup with coffee from the large urn before it grew tepid, even though the “Seattle’s Best” brew tasted like dirty dishwater. Steve skirted around the women and snagged the seat to Bucky’s left, and Sam flanked Steve on the other side, which was fine with Bucky. Steve was his best work friend, and Sam and Bucky had a working relationship characterized by frequent smack talk and hating each other’s football teams, but Sam was easy to be around.

“Welcome to another meeting that could have been an email,” Steve greeted him.

“Wouldn’t be much of a company if we all worked from home,” Bucky pointed out.

“If I could Zoom call into these from home in my pajamas, you would not hear me complain.”

“We don’t need that mental image, Steve.” Sam’s brow rose and he smirked at Steve, who merely shrugged.

“It’s gonna live in your head rent-free now, Wilson. Poor you.”

“Poor bastard,” Bucky agreed. “Stevie’s idea of pajamas are the boxers with the open flap.”

Steve sniggered. Sam made gagging noises but straightened up when their manager and department assistant joined them and set up the projector and laptop.

“Are we all here? Has everyone got their coffee?” Peggy did a brief head count of the room and her assistant, Dot, opened up the memos and slides. “Good morning. Let’s get started. I hope you all read the memo Dot sent out this morning, but if you haven’t cleaned out your inboxes yet,” and she gave Steve a pointed look, earning his sheepish smile, “I’ve provided it here. I assume you all can read.”

“Someone’s feeling sassy today,” Sam murmured.

“It’s her factory default setting,” Steve corrected him.

They ran through the memo’s highlights and then let Dot take them through the slide show, giving them their monthly and quarterly metrics. Bucky hated meetings, but it was a nice lull in his busy morning and it gave him time to drink his coffee uninterrupted. 

“Gallup survey results are back. We will be running through the top five most commonly picked answers as takeaways for the next meeting. I hope you find it constructive. This is your opportunity to give feedback and make your voices heard.”

She showed them the last slide and highlighted it with her pointer. “I feel like my manager recognizes my efforts at work.” She gave the words tenuous weight. “Apparently, this question scored the highest number of ‘Strongly Disagree’ responses. Thank you for your candor. This is something we will work on as an area of growth.”

The whole room shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Peggy sighed, smiling at the room.

“I mean it. I know you all work hard, and you’ve helped to make this company what it is today, and I want you to feel appreciated. Dot and I have a few things planned, but we would love some feedback.”

“I sense an email survey coming on,” Bucky muttered. Sam nodded, folding his arms.

“We will be leaving a suggestion box in the break room. Feel free to drop a little note in there and we will gather them up for the next meeting. They are going to be anonymous, like the survey.”

Which still made it sound like another survey.

*

Bucky went home to his empty, now undecorated apartment and rummaged through the freezer. There was nothing he wanted to attempt to cook, and he hadn’t thawed anything, so he poked at his Uber Eats app and ordered a cauliflower crust pizza with indecent amounts of meat and every green veggie they offered and a hipster flavored water in a can. Bucky washed his forgotten dishes and tied up the trash to get it ready to take out to the dumpster. He heard his across-the-hall neighbor, Clint, out in the corridor, keys jingling, or maybe that was his dog’s tags. Bucky shrugged into a zippered hoodie and grabbed the trash and his keys, and as he went to lock his door, he caught Clint’s casual greeting. Lucky wagged his tail and immediately investigated Bucky with enthusiastic sniffing and tried to check out the garbage bag until Clint called him back.

“Don’t, boy. That’s not for you. Hey. Just get off from work?”

“Just another day in paradise.”

“I bet. I’m just taking this guy for a walk before I take off, myself.” Clint worked third shift at the hospital as a dispatcher and usually slept most of the day. The rest of the time, he lived on coffee, pizza and donuts. He usually walked his dog first thing in the morning after work, and again before he left for the night, and he paid his neighbor’s daughter to take Lucky out to the park a couple of times a week so the dog wouldn’t get bored. Lucky was cute, a retriever mix of some kind that was missing an eye and that had some hip problems, but he was a sweetheart.

“You ever miss working in the daytime?”

“Not at the hospital. On NOCs, it’s mellow. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I miss _daylight_. But with every other job I’ve ever held at the hospital, it was always ten times busier and more hectic on day shift. More doctors walking through rounding and writing orders, more discharges and referrals, more visitor traffic, more messes. When I was still in housekeeping and sterile processing, it _sucked_.”

“Ugh…”

“Yeah.”

Bucky glanced at Clint’s door and pointed to the garish - and frankly, tacky - wreath hanging there. Clint had stripped it of the Christmas ribbons, lights and picks and replaced them with silly looking cherubs, heart-printed foil ribbon, and little fake candy hearts with rude messages. “What. Is. _That_.”

“Oh, you like it?”

“It’s. It’s very _you_.”

“Thanks!”

“It’s kinda fun. Must be nice to be into that kinda thing.”

Clint huffed, brows drawing together. “What? You’re _not_?”

“Hell, no.”

“Why not? C’mon, Buck! Valentine’s is fun! It’s an excuse to eat chocolate and treats at work without having to buy a whole shitload of gifts and cards. I mean, you _can_ , but, it’s like on a much smaller scale than Christmas. You didn’t like Valentine’s Day when you were a kid? When you made your little mailbox out of a milk carton and decorated it with all kinds of shit and then got cards from the whole class?”

Bucky remembered that a little less fondly. Not terribly, but it just didn’t trigger nostalgia. His younger sister Becca loved making Valentines out of paper doilies and taping on tiny boxes of pink Nerds candy to each one, while their ma read off the names of each kid in their class so they wouldn’t forget anybody. Bucky just remembered the last time he’d made one, back in fifth grade, maybe. When he forgot about it until the last minute, and his ma had to stop on the way to school, pick up a half-gallon of milk, drop him off at school, and then rush home again to dump the milk into a different container, wash out the jug, and head back through morning traffic to drop the jug at school along with his box of Transformer Valentine cards that she filled out for him in the parking lot. He didn’t remember that day fondly, but it made him love his ma that much more. “It was a lot of hassle for a box full of cards that we just threw out the next day.”

“Awwwww, Buck, no! It was fun! That, and St. Patrick’s Day and getting to pinch the kids that weren’t wearing green! But I love Valentine’s. I don’t know. It’s just nice, I guess.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t have a Valentine to even celebrate it with anymore.”

Clint deflated a little, and he reached out and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t even need one. Just eat all the discounted candy the day after. Hey, I gotta bail, or we’re not gonna get our walk, but it was good to see you!”

“Later, Barton. You, too.”

Clint loped off with his dog, and Bucky smiled as he watched them, realizing that dog and owner almost resembled each other a little. Clint was funny and easy to be around, and he was unattached. His divorce from Bobbi wasn’t as fresh as Bucky’s was from Nat, and the first thing he did when he moved out was get a dog, since Bobbi apparently hated them. Clint saw that Bucky had been struggling with moving the big TV stand that he ordered from Wayfair upstairs, because of _course_ the UPS guy had left it on the first floor instead of wheeling it up on the elevator and left it in front of his downstairs neighbor’s door. Clint left his mail in his box and automatically helped Bucky carry it, striking up a friendship that was still noncommittal but more than welcome. 

Bucky would take it.

*

The Gallup poll followup meeting went about as Bucky could have predicted.

“So. Some of you made the suggestion in common that we should do some more holiday activities,” Peggy announced. “Secret Valentine’s was a popular request.”

Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and Steve and Bucky smothered groans. Across the room, Wanda, Pepper and Sharon gleefully clapped their hands. Peggy rolled out another PowerPoint slide with the other suggestions, but there were stars beside the one for the Valentine exchange. Bucky stared at the middle of the table, running calculations in his head for how cheaply he could manage this nonsense while making it look like he’d made an effort. Dollar Tree? Target? How little could he get away with?

“We’re really doing this?” Steve whispered.

“Still not as bad as the costume contest for Halloween,” Sam told him. Bucky and Steve both shrugged and nodded. Their unit had gone as the Village People. They lost to Accounting, who all dressed up as Sonny and Cher. Damon was still bitter that he lost the award for Best Sonny to America, who went whole ham with her wig, ‘stache, and a pair of bell bottoms from the thrift store, that, admittedly, made her butt look pretty good. 

A few other suggestions were fundraiser bake sales (“Why did we ever stop doing these?), casual Fridays (“Within reason,” Peggy reminded them, “don’t get carried away.”) and an Employee of the Month survey that sounded like more work than it was worth, but what the heck. They carried on with the meeting, and Bucky kept his report brief, not wanting to drag out the amount of time away from his desk while he had a complicated renewal contract with flexible savings plans to finish.

“I’d appreciate it if you all participated in these activities. With your full feedback, of course. Teamwork makes us stronger,” Peggy trilled as they moved on to the status updates and product rollouts.

Somehow, Bucky just knew he was in for a shit-ton of irritation, and he had the feeling he was about to be volunteered against his will.

*

Sharon ambushed him at his desk to volunteer him a half an hour later.

“So. Bucky. You’re on tap to pick up decorations. And while you’re at it, pick a name out of the hat.”

“What? Why?”

“For Secret Cupid, that’s why, goofy butt!” She looked delighted, and Bucky recoiled, making the sign of the cross and pretending the Giants cap full of folded paper slips burned him.

“Say it ain’t so!”

“Oh, c’mon, you _love_ it! It’s gonna be _so much fun._ Just pick a name. There’s only a ten-dollar spending limit, so it’s not going to put you out!”

“Put me out of my misery…”

“Oh, don’t be such a poop.” She rattled the hat at him again. Bucky sighed and gave her his Sunday-best stinkeye. Then he reached for the hat. “Uh-uh. No peeking. Close your eyes.”

She reached out and covered his eyes with her soft, cool palm, and growled under his breath this time before rummaging around in the hat, slapping at the slips for emphasis before finally shaking one loose. Sharon snatched the hat away and freed his vision, telling him “Target’s having an awesome sale!” before moving along.

_Screw that,_ Bucky decided. He was going to the Dollar Tree just for spite.

*

“Hey, Bucky.”

“Hey, Clint. What’s up?”

“Well, I ordered from Uber Eats, and they got my order wrong, and I don’t have the heart to send it back. It’s orange chicken. I like the lemon chicken the best. You want it?” Clint hovered in Bucky’s doorway. He was already dressed in purple fleece pajama pants with Rick and Morty printed on them and a t-shirt that said “Busy Doing Nothing” in bold block print. His hair was slightly mussed and he was in his stocking feet. Bucky heard his dog whining from behind the door across the hall, no doubt indignant about being left out of his visit to his neighbor’s apartment. Lucky was convinced that everybody loved him, and he probably wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t usually… well, actually. Why not? I wouldn’t mind it. Want me to give you some money for it?”

“Nah. Well. I wouldn’t mind?”

Bucky grinned at him and nodded for Clint to follow him into his apartment while he fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “Shit,” Clint mused. “It’s neat as a pin in here.”

“Habit. No toys to trip over left on the floor. No cereal bowls left on the couch.”

“Oh.” Clint rubbed his nape awkwardly. “Guess not, huh? How’s that going, anyway? Are you guys final, yet?”

“Not quite. Mostly. Just waiting on the last day in court and the decree.”

“Still kinda sucks, but it’s good to get it done.”

“Yeah.” Bucky handed Clint a slightly crumpled fiver, and Clint stood there for a minute, just smoothing it out with his dexterous, callused fingers. 

“Y’know, if you ever miss tripping over toys on the floor, you could just come over to my place and watch the game, some time. Lucky leaves his crap all over the place. Well, not crap, because I walk him all the time, he’s well trained, but you get what I mean.”

“That’s probably the best offer I’ve had all week.” 

“Yeah?” Clint leaned his hip against the edge of one of Bucky’s bar stools at the counter, and Bucky smothered a sigh; Barton wasn’t gonna leave him alone any time soon. Bucky was on the fence as to whether or not he wanted him to, really. “Haven’t gotten any better offers than that, huh? Has it been a crap week, Buck-O?”

“I’m just not a big fan of February.”

“*Pfffttt…* seriously? Is this about Valentine’s again?”

“Not just Valentine’s, but having to buy decorations and crap for the potluck my work is planning, _and_ having to get something for my Secret Cupid giftee.”

Clint’s eyes lit up, and he stood up straight and bounced up and down, making a sound vaguely like “ _Eeeeyeeeeeyeeeeeee!_ Bucky shrank back, laughing despite himself.

“Seriously, Barton?”

“Are you _kidding_?! Bucky, this is great! C’mon! C’mon, buddy, you’ve got to let me go with and help you pick it out, whatever it is. Decorations? I love ‘em. The gift, too.”

“Can I just give you my debit card and let you do all of it without my having to go?”

“Hell, no… I mean. You probably earn more than I do, so you don’t wanna offer me your debit card, not even in jest. As a matter of fact, that orange chicken cost me fifty dollars. Pony up, pal.”

“Funny. You’re funny.”

“Know what? Let me get the rest of my order. They also gave me a second order of pot stickers. I like ‘em, but I don’t need to eat that many of them. And if Lucky gets into them, he gets the farts. My dog can clear the room when he gets gas, which always happens when you feed him pork.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Clint. Ew…”

“I’ll be back in a minute. We can finish this, and we can go to Target. They stay open late.”

“But-”

“We might even be able to pick up some Christmas clearance stuff dirt-cheap,” Clint called over his shoulder.

Which… was the last thing Bucky wanted to do with his only three wakeful hours left to his day. But, he took his cue from Clint and shucked his work shirt, trading it for a faded, cranberry red henley that felt soft as a hug. Bucky _really_ wanted to settle down with his Hulu account, his food, and some bedtime doomscrolling under the covers in the dark before he had to start all over again in the morning. But at the same time… it was Clint.

And at least he’d brought him dinner.

Clint was still prattling on when he came back. “Okay. How cheesy are we going here, with the gift? And the decorations? Because I have some thoughts.”

“It has to be work-safe.”

“Pssssshhh. Where’s the fun in that?!”

“Not getting written up is fun. Try it some time.”

“You’ve gotta learn to live dangerously. I think we should go to Spenser’s.”

“Hell, no.”

“Okay. Hot Topic, then. You can get something fun that won’t get you fired.”

“How about something cheap?”

“God, Buckster, what’re we gonna do with you? Clearly, I need to take you under my wing. I mean, you’re looking at the _king_ of secondary holidays. I’ll celebrate all that shit. Because life needs to be celebrated. It’s too fucking short, y’know? I mean, Valentine’s is just an excuse for candy companies to sell more candy, and jewelry stores to sell more jewelry, and it’s not like you have to get anybody on your list a lab-created ruby this year.”

“Thankfully, I didn’t have to before, anyway. Nat hated them.” Natasha preferred movie nights on Valentine’s Day when they could get babysitting. She didn’t even care for cut flowers because they dropped dried petals on her countertop.

Clint plunked himself down beside Bucky on the couch, even though Bucky had a very comfortable leather recliner on the other side of the coffee table, and the two of them dug into their food. “Take an egg roll. And some of this sweet and sour sauce. Yeah, dip it in there. It’ll put some meat on your bones.”

Bucky snickered, nearly choking on a chunk of his orange chicken. “It’ll raise my cholesterol,” he argued back.

“Screw cholesterol. _Egg rolls_ , Bucky.” Clint waved one at him and dunked it into the sauce. “Man, it’s been forever since I’ve had these.”

They ended up watching _Rick and Morty_ for a while, and Clint filled Bucky’s ear. Which was nice, after a fashion; it meant Bucky didn’t have to come up with much small talk of his own. Clint’s shoulder and thigh occasionally bumped his. He felt warm. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to move away.

When they were both full, Bucky turned to tell Clint he _really_ didn’t feel like going to the store, but Clint immediately jingled his car keys at him. “C’mon. Get your shoes. This won’t take long.”

“Awwww, Clint!”

“Awwwww, Bucky! C’mon, let’s jet. I’ll go get Lucky, he’ll wanna go along for the ride. It’s always more fun when he comes with.”

And that was how Bucky ended up riding along in the passenger side of Clint’s battered ‘66 Mustang with Lucky curled up on top of him, fully convinced that he was still puppy-sized. 

“Normally, he’s pretty good about riding in the back. He must just like you.”

“Geez…”

… and Lucky kept giving him kibble-scented kisses. Just. Great.

“Sweet, we got a space up front!” Clint crowed, and he executed the single worst parking job Bucky had ever witnessed, as diagonal as a winning game of Connect Four. Clint watched Bucky fumble with the door handle unsuccessfully before he hopped out and rounded the side. “Door doesn’t work from the inside. Sorry, Buck-O. Hey, though, this is chivalrous, right?”

“God, Clint…”

Yet, Bucky didn’t mind Clint’s palm that settled briefly against the small of his back. It just seemed natural to let it land there. 

Bucky started to grab a basket once they were inside, but Clint swatted it away before jerking a cart out of the rack. “Uh-uh. Go big or go home. Besides, I have to pick up a few more things, anyway. Mrs. Miller downstairs has a son that lives overseas. Just got deployed a month ago, so it’ll cost him a grip in postage to send her anything. We need to pick up a little something for her while we’re here. And I want to pick up some Valentines for the Pedes department at the hospital.”

“Aw.”

“Well, why not?”

“That’s just… that’s really nice of you, Barton.”

“Hey. I told you, I _love_ this holiday. Call me a sap if you want.”

“You _are_ a sap. But your sappiness is being harnessed for good. Lead on.”

“That’s the spirit!”

And Clint hooked his hand through the crook of Bucky’s arm and dragged him along, making him help steer the cart as he began to chuck things into it at random. “We need a few different kinds of Valentines for the pedes. Paw Patrol for the younger ones is fine, but how about some Star Wars?”

“And Batman,” Bucky told him, despite himself. Shopping for his work potluck didn’t appeal to him at all, but shopping for cards for sick kids? That, he could get behind.

“Yeah, now we’re talking! Batman. And Doc McStuffins. Those are cute. And girls always love those little lacy, heart-shaped things… what are they called?”

“Doilies,” Bucky told him. “Becca did too, when she was little.”

“I always wondered what they were called. Now, I know. See? This is why I need you to come along with me. This worked out great!”

“I’m not convinced you couldn’t have managed this on your own.”

“Aw, Bucky, no! No! I need adult supervision.”

Bucky’s sigh was long-suffering and resigned. Clint found Mrs. Miller a cute coffee mug with a tiny Beanie Baby dog stuffed into it. “I’d give her chocolate, but she needs to watch her blood sugar.”

“Then, this might work.”

“You could go this route for your Secret Cupid person, maybe?”

“No. I told you. I’m spite shopping. I plan to find the tackiest, most useless gift ever so that no one ever makes me draw a name out of a hat again.”

“Then, I told you, we should’ve gone to Spenser’s!”

“Half the stuff in that store has dicks on it. There’s ‘spite,’ Clint, and then there’s ‘Here, I spent money on this. Now, fuck you.’”

Clint patted his arm, nodding. “I mean. You’re not wrong…”

They made it to the decorations, which all still looked overpriced for stuff that was supposedly on sale. “We should have waited until the very last day before,” Bucky complained.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“We could have just gone to Dollar Tree!”

“No! This is fine. And now that we’re single, we shop at Target. We don’t have to buy an industrial-sized pack of diapers or a gallon of mayonnaise at Costco or Walmart anymore. You see all these single-looking people in here? It’s better than eHarmony up in this place.”

Bucky pulled a face. “More like Plenty of Fish. It’s kinda sketchy in here when you come this late.”

“That guy trying on all the Axe spray in aisle fourteen might be Mr. Wonderful, Buck-O. Give him a chance.”

“Be my guest. Hope we don’t get stuck behind him in line.”

“...right?” Clint wrinkled his nose and shuddered.

They found the items that Clint insisted they needed, even though Bucky fought it at first.

“How can you not love this stuff? C’mon, it’s Baby Yoda with a little Cupid bow and arrow!”

“Put that down and quit squawking about it. Someone might hear you and think I’m with you.”

“I’m buying it,” Clint told Bucky as he chucked the tacky centerpiece into the cart. “Keep standing there with a stick up your ass.”

“The women in my office are gonna kill me.”

“No, they won’t. Women love Baby Yoda. They’re gonna squeal over this, just watch. Okay? Watch.”

Bucky had his misgivings. Clint added insult to injury by throwing in heaps of red, pink and silver mardi gras bead necklaces with little heart pendants into the cart.

“Who are you buying a gift for?”

“Steve. No surprise. He’s easy enough to shop for. Guy loves peanut butter cups and usually steals all of them out of the candy dishes at work.”

“Mug full of ‘em right here. Boom. You were looking for this. Here we go. He’s done.” 

They wandered the aisles, and Clint continued to crowd Bucky, bumping him and dragging him to every display, trying on ugly hats and headbands and waving his head back and forth to make the heart antennae wiggle. “You have to try this one on.”

“No, Clint. Clint. Cli… oh, come ON!”

“Selfie time! C’mon, Buck-O, lean in. Show me those pearly whites.” Clint towered over Bucky and practically had him in a headlock, and he wrestled the headband onto him, grinning the whole time.

“This isn’t happening. Oh, my God, I hate you, Barton.”

“This is going on my Instagram.” Clint snickered, and Bucky tried to swat him away, to no avail. His effort just made the antennae bounce that much more when Clint wouldn’t let him take it off his head. Bucky flipped him the bird and yanked it off once Clint snapped the picture, throwing it and letting it hit Clint in the chest. “Grumpy ass…”

But, the shopping was done. Clint snagged a few of the plain, red paper gift bags on the way to the register, and they rang out in the self-checkout stand. Clint halted Bucky’s reach for his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? _You_ don’t worry about it, half this stuff is mine!”

“I know that. I’ve got it, Bucky.”

“Clint. What the _hell_.” Bucky was appalled. Clint just shrugged.

“It’s fine, Bucky. I told you, I’m just really into this holiday. And I had fun hanging out with you and finding all of this.”

“At least let me get Steve’s gift. And baby Yoda.”

“Nope. Step aside.” Clint expertly scanned each item with the gun, and Bucky watched with dawning horror as the prices ran down the screen. “Tell you what, though. You can help me wrap Mrs. Miller’s gift, because I suck at it.”

“That’s fine.”

Clint shoulder-checked him again and just scanned away. Bucky packed everything into the red and white plastic bags, feeling guiltier with every step they took toward the Mustang. Clint let him in again, and Lucky promptly leapt over the seat and resumed his place on Bucky’s lap.

“Are you giving Bucky some lovin’?” Clint crooned to his dog, who thumped his tail against Clint’s thigh. Lucky wagged it even more eagerly when he reached over to give his furry rump some scritches. “You like him, don’t you, boy? Hey, get up a sec, Luck, let Bucky get his seatbelt. That gets stuck, too, sometimes, here.” He reached over Bucky, leaning in close enough for Bucky to smell his cologne up close and a hint of pot stickers on his breath. Clint jerked the belt just the right way so it extended itself all the way from the clip and then buckled it for him. Bucky felt himself flush with the closeness and brief contact, and the dog settled right back into place. What was it about Barton, his dog, and personal space?

And why couldn’t Bucky bring himself to mind?

Bucky stole looks at Clint in the dark, watching the chunks of street light fly over Clint’s hair and skin through the windshield. He ruffled Lucky’s fur behind his ears, and the dog sighed in contentment.

“I’ve got plans for St. Patrick’s Day next month already. I’m _definitely_ going to Spenser’s and Hot Topic,” Clint bragged. “My job isn’t as PC about that shit. You can practically get away with murder.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s fine,” Clint assured him. “It’s all fun and games, as long as nobody gets arrested and nothing gets set on fire.”

“Fair enough.”

They headed back to the apartment, and there was more awkward shuffling in the car, between trying to get around Lucky to unbuckle his seatbelt, Clint attempting to help him with it again, and Clint having to do the chivalrous thing again to let Bucky back out of the car, but they made it back into the apartment building with a pile of shopping bags, and Bucky felt relieved that the chore was finished. It just felt strangely hollow telling Clint goodnight.

“Uh. Thanks. Good night, Barton. Thanks for all of this. It’s just… it’s a big deal that you took the time. You’re really generous.”

Clint beamed, nodding. “We’ll do the same thing on St. Patty’s, if your work ropes you into another potluck. Or, y’know. Whatever.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

Bucky set the goods down on his kitchen table, fixed himself a small snack, brushed his teeth, and settled down for a little more Rick and Morty before finally heading off to bed. It was nice not to have to stress about his Secret Cupid offerings, even though he chided himself for stressing about it in the first place. 

Maybe it was just fun hanging out with Clint, who didn’t find it stressful at all, and maybe Bucky envied his ability to embrace the kitsch and the chaos of such an insignificant, overrated holiday.

It was something to ponder.

*

“I’ve never worked anywhere else where Valentine’s Day was also nacho day,” Sharon remarked as she ladled hot cheese dip over her tortilla chips that she’d already covered with crumbles of meat and toppings. “But, I have no problem with this. None whatsoever.”

“Valentine’s Day should _always_ be nacho day,” Tony agreed. “Throw that into the employee handbook the next time they update it.”

“Ooh! You’re crossing your legs!” Pepper crowed to Wanda, who was seated at one of the break room tables and just beginning to tuck into her plate.

“What! No!”

“YES!, Now, give it here!”

“Fine… my God, you _suck_.” Wanda wiped off her hands and reached for the pink Mardi Gras strand of beads around her neck and handed them over to Pepper.

“What’s going on?” Tony wondered.

“Anyone who crosses their arms or legs as to give up their beads. It’s just like a baby shower game,” Pepper explained. “Whoever gets the most necklaces at the end of the party wins.”

“We don’t clock out til four-thirty!” Tony glanced at his watch and gave Pepper an appalled look. Pepper gave him a smug look as she counted the pile of necklaces around her throat so far.

“I know. Check me out!”

“You and my sister Sarah would get along just fine,” Sam told her. “She’s always going to and planning baby showers.”

“I didn’t know they even offered prizes for casual theft,” Steve joked. 

“Just eat your nachos and ignore it,” Tony told them. “It’s less of a headache if you don’t even try to comprehend it all.”

“I can’t believe you bought these, Buck,” Steve teased. “Look at all this stuff!”

“Blame Clint, my neighbor. Half this stuff was _his_ idea.”

“It’s fun,” Wanda interjected. “This has been so much fun.”

Bucky smiled and shrugged as he loaded his plate. He texted Clint a photo of Pepper in her necklaces and Wanda thumbing her nose at her in the background. Clint sent back several laughing emojis that gave Bucky warm prickles.

_Told you the necklaces were a good idea._ Then, he added, _Hey. Bring a few of those back when you come home._

Bucky smothered a laugh. He grabbed a few of the necklaces and dropped them into his shirt pocket, earning himself a funny look from Steve.

But Steve didn’t comment on it when he stopped by his cubicle on the way back to his own desk. “Thanks again for the peanut butter cups, Buck. I can’t leave those things alone.”

“And he won’t share!” Sam added.

“Bucky wasn’t _your_ Cupid,” Steve told him simply. “Boo-hoo.”

Bucky kept working but his mind kept drifting back to Clint. 

“Okay,” he murmured to himself. “Okay.”

Bucky planned a couple of stops before he went home. Clint’s helpfulness and generosity needed to be rewarded.

*

Clint heard the brisk knock on his door, and Lucky woofed, scrambling to beat Clint to answer it. Clint muttered at him, “Take it easy, buddy, sheesh. Let Daddy see who it is.” 

He peered through the peephole and grinned when he saw Bucky on the other side, carrying packages and a couple of bags. Delight made him warm up from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, and he quickly undid the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hey! Happy Valentine’s Day, Buck-O!”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Uh…” Bucky peered around the edge of Clint’s doorway. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Pffft… heck, no. C’mon in, sit down. I just watching reruns of _Pitbulls and Parolees,_ but we can turn on whatever you want, okay?”

“I’m up for whatever?”

Clint rubbed his hands together and nodded to Bucky’s items. “What’d you bring me?” he asked expectantly.

“A little something to say ‘thank you.’”

“Awwwww, Buck, yes! Yay! Gimme.” Clint’s face lit up, and Bucky laughed in that way that made his eyes crinkle up, and there it was again, that little rush of warm prickles that Clint felt every time Bucky did cute things with his face. Bucky handed him the red foil gift bag and held onto the grocery bag hanging from his elbow. Clint snatched off the puffs of white and pink tissue paper stuffed into the bag, muttering “Wow, you went all out, you did a good job, I hardly ever wrap anything” before he exclaimed, “Aw, holy _shit_! Bucky!” He pulled out the folded t-shirt and shook it out, reading it aloud. “ _Cupid’s Wingman._ Excellent!”

“There’s a second one in there. I couldn’t leave it alone, it was already on clearance,” Bucky offered.

“Pssssshhht… whatever, I love it already, you gave it to me.” And Clint laughed again at the second one, a long-sleeved raglan cut shirt in red that said “ _Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I Love Tacos, and Queso, too_.”

“Do you know me or _what_?!” Clint poked Bucky in his side, making him yelp a little. Lucky woofed again, and Clint only noticed at that point that his dog was trying to crowd Bucky and was sniffing at the grocery bag with interest. “C’mon, boy, leave him alone.”

“He’s fine, but here. Take the food. I might have done a little impulse shopping while I was hungry and went a little crazy.”

“A little crazy huh- Ooh! Nice.” Clint took the bag and peered inside, and he pulled out the black tray with a clear plastic lid. There were multiple kinds of sweets inside, including mini donuts with chocolate glaze and pink sprinkles, small eclairs and cream puffs, and cheesecakes that looked like they were baked in miniature tins topped with raspberries and white chocolate. “Wow. This is _a lot._ What made you want to do all this?”

“C’mon, Clint,” Bucky told him, shrugging. “Look at what you did for me. For everybody. You helped me with decorations, a gift, and ideas for a party I didn’t even want to go to, let alone help throw, and you made it relatively painless. I _might_ have even had a good time despite myself.”

“Oh. You might’ve, huh?” Clint’s smirk was sly. “Is somebody coming around to liking Valentine’s Day?”

“Conditionally. Only if I have someone a little insane to spend it with.” Bucky indulged Lucky by kneeling down to play with him and give him cuddles. He told the dog, “Your daddy’s _insane_. DId you hear that, buddy? Yes, he is!” His voice took on that slightly treacly, sing-song tone that dog lovers always seemed able to perfect, and Clint’s heart kicked. And Clint was beginning to feel _really_ jealous of his dog, while he watched Bucky give him all that attention and lovin’.

“It’s one of my best qualities. Hey, c’mon, let’s watch TV. I ordered pizza. Now I can call them back and tell them to add some wings to my order. You gave me the excuse when you showed up.”

“You never need an excuse for wings.”

Clint playfully bumped Bucky’s shoulder as he walked by to grab his phone, and Bucky’s smirk turned into a grin at full wattage. Clint heard him ordering two different kinds of wings with extra sauce and some garlic knots, and he looked up from the call, asking Bucky, “You like ranch? We want ranch, right?”

“Yup.”

“We want ranch. Yup. Yup. Sure. Great. Here’s my card number again. Okay. See you then.”

Clint put the dessert tray into the fridge and they both occupied the couch again. Lucky laid across Clint’s lap, but his face rested on Bucky’s thigh, and he stared up at him soulfully. Bucky and Clint were bumped together companionably just like they’d been before, and it wasn’t as awkward to Bucky this time. Their hands occasionally bumped, too, as they petted the dog, fingers scritching through his long, blond fur. 

“I almost didn’t come. I didn’t know if you had plans.”

“Yeah. Well. Sometimes, no plans are the best plans. Just me and Lucky. That’s not a bad night. Especially when it involves pizza and drop-in visits from my neighbor who’s not exactly ugly and that doesn’t come over often enough, if I’m being honest.”

“What, no Tinder hookups?”

Clint shrugged. “That’s fine any other day of the year. Feels weird on Valentine’s Day. I wanna spend it with somebody I already know kinda well. It just feels right that way.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I mean, hookups… are nice. They are. Still. You get used to being with the same person for a long time, and it’s hard to get back ‘out there.’ It’s like, I want a relationship, but I don’t want to go through the hassle of dating to have one again. Makes me sound kinda chicken shit, doesn’t it?”

“Buddy, you’re preaching to the choir. I get lonely, but I can’t imagine setting up a dating profile again and swiping through the ones that are misspelled, filtered to death, and that say ‘Looking for something long-term but casual.’”

“Jesus… that… yeah. That. You hit that nail right on the head.”

“Facebook Dating is a nightmare.”

“It’s a _shit show._ Oh, my God. I thumb through it when I need a laugh.”

“That baby Yoda centerpiece was a big hit.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

They switched the channel to _The Great British Bake-Off_ when Clint pointed out, “Hey, it’s more fun to watch baking shows when you actually have sweets in the house. That tray of goodies has us covered.”

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got everything. And I told you I was shopping hungry.”

“Dude. That’s dangerous. This one time, I ended up buying half the chip aisle, two rotisserie chickens, five loaves of garlic bread, three boxes of Cap’n Crunch, and the family sized pack of Oreos. And I only went to the store to buy milk. Bobbi was about ready to kill me…” Then, Clint sighed. “One more reason why she’s not sitting here.”

“You sorry she isn’t?”

“NnnnnnOPE.”

Lucky kept licking at Bucky’s hand where it rested on his lap. Clint huffed. “Lucky, c’mon. You’ve got all the game, here.” Bucky laughed, and Clint went on. “Seriously, my dog’s getting all the attention, here. I promise you, Buck, my breath doesn’t smell anywhere near as bad as his.”

Bucky blushed and his eyes swung away for a moment, only for Bucky to glance up at him again with a pleased little smirk. “You promise?”

Clint lightly elbowed him. “Well, yeah.”

“Good.”

Bucky knocked his knee into Clint’s, and Clint’s hand might have crept into Bucky’s, curling their fingers together, and heat rushed up into Bucky’s cheeks when Clint leaned in and kissed him. Bucky’s stomach dipped at the feeling of Clint’s lips caressing his. He tilted his face to give him better access and kissed him back with soft intensity. Clint’s large, warm hand reached up to cup Bucky’s cheek, and the tip of his tongue traced the seam of his lips, teasing him to open for him. Bucky hummed in pleasure when Clint’s tongue swept inside to explore his mouth. Lucky, growing a bit confused by how cramped his space had become, gradually hopped off of Clint’s lap, shook himself in a brisk jingle of tags, and trotted off to the bedroom, and Bucky and Clint took advantage of the ease of access that created. The television seemed to fade into the background, underscored by their breathing and the occasional sigh of wonder. 

They came up for air a few minutes later, once they heard a knock on the door. “That’s dinner. Shit.”

“We can pick up where we left off after we eat.”

“I love the way you think.”

“Stick around, Buck. I’m full of _all kinds_ of good ideas.”


End file.
